The Warlock's Psychotic Familiar
by Inkblooded Witch
Summary: Alfred is the newest of the monsters in Halloween Town, and is still struggling to be taken seriously. He's well recognized and feared in the human world, but the other monsters are somewhat skeptical. Determined to make a name for himself, Alfred decides to brave the territory even Ivan usually avoids- the territory of Arthur the Warlock. One-shot. USUK. Halloween Special.


**I know it's a day early, but I thought I'd go ahead and put out my Halloween Special. I was going for two parts whimsical one part dark, with the possibility of a lemon. It turned into one part whimsical, three parts dark, with a dark lemon. Not rape, just rough. I make the mistake of listening to 'I Like It Rough' while I was working on it. :P**

 **As usual the version with the lemon can be found on my AO3 account. archive (no space) of (no space) our (no space) own (slash) works (slash) 5110031**

 **Enjoy! And happy Halloween! :)**

* * *

Alfred F. Jones was not by any means an old monster. Compared to the others, he was practically a child. Still, he was old enough to be fully matured physically, if nothing else. He would not be in Halloween Town if he was not a fully matured and recognized monster. Even so, he knew many of the others didn't take him seriously, and it irked him to no end.

The fox tailed Kitsune, Kiku, was one of the few who was willing to hang around him. He was among the oldest of the monsters, and in Alfred's opinion one of the least frightening. Vampires, mummy's, a wide assortment of were-beasts, and everything in between inhabited their town. Alfred himself didn't have a specific name, but his face was well known. It certainly scared enough people when he went into the human world once a year. Size thirteen hiking boots, ratty jeans, red jacket, white hockey mask, and a chainsaw made up his ensemble. Not that he wore the hockey mask all the time, though. Unless he went primal, he usually kept it pushed down around his neck or something. He was proud of it, all of it, no matter what everyone else said.

But after nearly thirty years, you'd think he could get a little respect.

Finally, Alfred had had enough. He decided he'd prove to the rest of the town he wasn't some cheap Halloween monster. Oh no, he was a _real_ monster. Real monsters had guts, dished out scares instead of taking them. He just had to prove it. Alfred had thought long and hard about how to go about doing this, and eventually decided to just go big or go home.

There was one monster he'd never actually seen, not personally anyway. He knew the legends, of one of the oldest monsters in town. Alfred never understood why, really. A Warlock didn't sound that scary. The witches in town weren't that bad. Elizabeta was one of the few who talked to him on a regular basis. Why did the man who lived on the edge of the town get so much more respect than the rest of them? Even Ivan, a were-bear that was considered the most fierce of the monsters, avoided the Warlock's territory.

Alfred didn't get it. But he was past caring. He'd heard a few stories, about how terrible the Warlock's temper was and how he never let intruders go unscathed. So long as he had something easily recognizable, though, Alfred could care less. He just had to get in, swipe something to prove he'd done it, and get out.

"I'm the hero. I'm the totally brave hero. I'm the totally brave hero who doesn't see the graveyard he's walking past. Nope. Nothing. Not at all," Alfred muttered to himself, tromping along the path.

A wide graveyard circled the town in place of a wall, ending in the dense forest that never really saw the light of day. Supposedly Arthur the Warlock lived just inside the tree line. Alfred was even braving the graveyard to get there, that had to count for something. Not that he was afraid of it. Ghosts didn't scare him in the least.

"Okay, the hero serial killer made it past the graveyard. See? Totally not afraid. Damn it, aren't instincts supposed to kick in when we get emotional? A serial killer would camp out in a freakin' graveyard, not tiptoe past it."

It was the one drawback to Alfred's breed of monster, as far as he was concerned. He was a very smart person, or at least he liked to think so. What sort of serial killer was the scariest? The smart ones. The ones who stayed three steps ahead, never got caught, never got figured out. The one who was so smart it was insane, and so insane it made the biggest and badest run for mama. Hell, when he was in full serial-killer mode even Ivan seemed reluctant to engage him. But since he did have a problem reaching that mindset, it left him open to the ridicule the other monsters often turned on him. Kiku said he would master it in a few centuries, which didn't make Alfred feel any better. The few decades he'd already lived felt like forever. How was he supposed to deal with _centuries?_

"Okay, past the graveyard, then make for the fog," he muttered to himself, striding confidently into the dark tree line. Kiku, one of the only people the Warlock allowed onto his turf, had given him directions. The Kitsune obviously hadn't been happy about it, but had done it anyway. "After that I should be able to see a lantern. If Kiku's right, that lantern should be attached to a house. Easy-peasy."

Hefting his chainsaw over his shoulder, Alfred marched into the dense fog. Two steps in, he could barely see his hand in front of his face. He kept going, though, and after a minute he could just make out a faint light. A triumphant smile climbed up his face. Ha! Too easy. If what Kiku said was right, then that would be the lantern that was always lit by the Warlock's door.

Alfred quickly revised his 'too easy' label the first time he tripped over a root. A few more tee knees and well-placed rocks later, he was cursing under his breath. Even so, he persevered. The light seemed to be farther away than he originally thought, and it took a good fifteen minutes before it started to get any bigger or brighter.

By the twenty minute mark he was climbing onto the porch, squinting into the surrounding fog. The house was about three feet over the boggy ground, frogs croaking and crickets chirping. Odd, but definitely spooky, mysterious. Very fitting of a Warlock. The house was even more so, a construction that wouldn't have looked out of place in a Victorian neighborhood. It looked worse for wear, the paint peeled off almost completely, half the shutters broken, the boards squeaky under his feet. But then that wasn't unusual. It was the custom of the people in Halloween Town to keep their homes as spooky as possible on the outside, while maintaining whatever they wished on the inside. It was something of an art, and one they were quite proud of.

For a moment Alfred hesitated outside the door, contemplating. He eyed the heavy, tarnished knocker, but then reached for the doorknob. If he was lucky and the Warlock was sleeping, he didn't want to toss a golden opportunity out the window. Besides, technically it was still mid October in the human world. Once October first hit, the people of Halloween Town started saving up energy, prepping for the big night. A sort of hibernation period to make sure they were at their best when they went into the human world.

Slowly, Alfred turned the knob, grinning when it clicked open. He swung the door inward, the hinges creaking softly. As he stepped inside, closing the door behind him, Alfred looked around. It seemed the Warlock had endeavored to keep up the original interior while letting the exterior run into the ground. A polished stair went up to the next level, carpets laid out over polished floors, a few electric lamps providing just enough light to see by. The walls, painted soft green, were hung with what looked like various paintings and embroideries. Alfred ignored them, though, looking into the open room to his right. There were another set of double doors to his left, but they were both shut.

 _Okay, he's probably napping upstairs or something. Just find something of his, and you can get out of here,_ Alfred told himself. A perk of being a monster was that you had a strong sixth sense, and his had started nagging the moment he stepped onto the porch. Just because it was easy to ignore didn't mean Alfred wanted to push his luck.

The parlor didn't have anything that looked significant enough. A lot of books, some tea sets in a china cabinet, more pictures and embroideries, but that was about it. Disappointed, Alfred stepped back out into the main hall, chewing his lip.

He was making for the closed doors when the lights flickered, then went out. Alfred froze, sixth sense kicking into overdrive. Then, before he could rev up his chainsaw, it was torn from his hands and he was hurled backwards through the air. His back slammed into wood that clattered, which he assumed to be the doors, but rather than fall he stayed there, feet kicking at the air.

Something had him by the jaw, not enough to choke him but plenty to be unpleasant. Alfred clawed at thin air, thrashing as much as he could. "Put me down!"

The lights flickered back on again. Most of them did, anyway. Those that did now had an eerie green tint to them, casting shadows that seemed more ominous, and providing a light that suited the situation a good deal better.

Alfred's heart sank, but he didn't stop struggling, glowering at the Warlock. He was the hero, he could totally take this guy. For crying out loud, he wasn't even that big! An inch shorter than Alfred, at least. And this turn of events wasn't terrifying in the least. If nothing else, he finally had a face to put with the name.

The Warlock, Arthur Kirkland, was not the biggest or the most intimidating of the monsters in Halloween Town. That said, Alfred was getting more bad vibes off him right now than he did Ivan in a week. And he trusted his vibes. The man who stood before him now, with neither staff nor wand, appeared to be holding him in place with the mere power of his eyes, which were literally glowing like twin pools of green acid. He stood there, arms folded, a look of mocking irritation on his face. His skin was pale, his ruffled hair sandy blond, and the eyebrows set over the glowing orbs were not unlike caterpillars, in Alfred's humble opinion. He had the sinister-without-even-trying look down, though. He didn't even need a dark cloak. No, this particular Warlock was clad in dark pants, black boots lined with silver buckles, a black dress shirt, a green waist coat that went with his glowing eyes, and black fingerless gloves. It was like he couldn't decide between a biker and a gentlemen, and had gone with both. The look was completed with the smirk on his face, which made Alfred's blood boil even as his face flushed.

"Mmm, considering _you_ broke into _my_ home, you're hardly in a position to make demands," mused the Warlock, ignoring his struggles. His accent was definitely British, which oddly enough was one of the least irritating parts about him.

"What the hell, man? If you're going to skin me or something can you at least do it when I have two feet on the floor?"

The Warlock cocked his head slightly, eyes glowing brighter. The invisible hand grew, and Alfred choked as it started to close over his throat as well. "What are they teaching you monsters these days? Show respect to your elders, lad, and I might consider simply kicking you out on your arse."

Alfred, despite clawing at the invisible hand now restricting his air supply, spared a few seconds to flip off the Warlock. He was a lot of things, but obedient wasn't one of them. Honestly, his inner monster was a criminal by nature for pities sake. What did this Warlock expect? The people back in Halloween Town were just glad Alfred was a naturally happy, good natured fellow when he wasn't in monster-mode.

Thick brows arched. Then, to Alfred's surprise, the Warlock laughed. His heart sank as he recognized it though. That wasn't a nice laugh. It was the laugh of a monster who was about to do something that was in their nature, something that was delightful for them but very unpleasant for the victim. It was the one Alfred himself let loose when he went on a rampage.

"Oh, feisty, are you lad? I must say, it has been some time since anyone's tried me. I've been getting bored. You should amuse me until the end of the month, I think. There are a few potions I've been meaning to try, anyway. You should be more suitable than a toad."

Alfred's eyes widened, and he gasped as the hand left his neck. Once he'd gulped down fresh air, he blurted, "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! You don't wanna do that, dude."

The Warlock folded his arms, an amused look on his face. "And why not?"

The serial killer thought quickly. "Because human's make the best guinea-pigs, right? I'm not human. I'll mess up your results." Elizabeta had insisted on this. It was why no one really worried about witches hunting for test subjects in town.

"You're more human than most of us, thanks to your monster type. Mmm, yes, you're more durable, which is good. No fear, you'll do nicely," mused the Warlock, eyes glittering as his fingers twitched.

Alfred drifted away from the doors, moving closer to the warlock. "Aren't there some rules against this?" demanded Alfred, still struggling for what it was worth.

"Yes. But you relieved yourself of them the moment you broke into my house."

"The door was unlocked, dumbass!"

The Warlock tutted at him wagging a finger. "You really should watch that mouth of yours, lad. It might land you in a good deal of trouble."

Ignoring him, Alfred struggled and thrashed, trying to kick at the Warlock. He wasn't accomplishing anything, but he refused to just sit there. Arthur had actually turned his back on him, leading the still floating Alfred through the double doors, which slid open on their own. Alfred's heart sank as he realized it was the Warlock's work room, and he redoubled his efforts.

Shelves full of books, vials, bottles, and jars lined every wall, save for the space taken by a large brick hearth. In it a fire was blazing under a large caldron, steaming as a thick liquid gurgled from within. The room was lit only by a few lamps, which still glowed eerie green. Alfred tried not to look too hard at much, heart sinking.

"What is it you're going to do to me?" he demanded. "You owe me that much, at least."

"I owe you nothing, boy," disagreed the Warlock lightly, flicking the doors shut again with a glance. "Hold still, would you?"

"Hey, what are you- no way, not happening! _Put me down!"_

The Warlock continued to ignore him, even as Alfred was dumped against an upright table, the belts riveted into the planks binding him down tightly. Despite his efforts, within seconds he was barely able to move at all. Two belts went across each limb, another around his waist, holding him fast.

"I really don't see why you're so upset," the Warlock drawled, drifting over to an open book on a table. "It's not as though I can kill you. And you did ask for it, quite literally. What is it you hoped to accomplish by breaking in, anyway?"

"None of your damn business," muttered Alfred, scowling.

The Warlock looked back at him again, eyes no longer glowing. "Is it? Let me guess, you wanted to prove yourself?" It must have shown in Alfred's expression, because he shook his head, making a face. "You think you're the first to have this so called brilliant idea? Please."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"I'm talking every wanker in that sodding town," snapped Arthur, flipping through the pages of the thick book. "I'm tired of having people think they can prove how bloody good they are by breaking into my home. Very few haven't, you know, not that they announce it. Too bloody embarrassed."

Alfred frowned. No one had ever mentioned it, but then Arthur had made a point. No monster liked to admit getting shown up by someone else.

"It's not my fault no one takes me seriously," he grumbled, eyeing the belts. They looked old fashioned, but still plenty strong. Wait, there was a small nick in the edge of one. More specifically, the one over his right forearm. Mmm, maybe if he pulled hard enough...he was very strong, after all. Even stronger than Ivan.

"If you want respect, you earn it," quipped the Warlock, unsympathetic.

"I've tried! Nothing I do ever works. You think I wanted to come all the way out here?"

Arthur glared at him. "And that worked out marvelously, didn't it?"

Alfred returned the glare, straining at the right arm straps. "I wasn't going to hurt you or anything," he argued.

"No, you were just going to steal from me."

"Barrow," corrected Alfred. Though he'd planned on keeping whatever he took for as long as he could, he decided a little fibbing might do him some good at the moment. "I was going to bring it back, once I made my point."

The Warlock didn't look convinced, but he folded his arms, giving Alfred his full attention again. "Really? And what makes you think I'd believe that?"

Alfred gave a one shouldered shrug, as much as he was able. "I don't have any proof, but that was the plan."

"Mmm. Points for originality, lad, but you're not walking back out my door until I'm done with you." He cocked his head, lips twitching upward. "Well, I say _walking."_

"Dude, whatever it is you've got in mind-

"What makes you think you won't enjoy it?" asked the Warlock, mouth curling up even farther.

"I'm not a freakin' masochist," snapped Alfred.

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, damn it!"

"Then why are you still here?"

"Dude, you've got some freaky magic. Plus I'm kinda strapped to a table. I'm good, but I'm not that good."

Arthur chuckled, sending a chill right up Alfred's spine. He wandered over to the young monster, hands clasped behind the small of his back. As he looked up at Alfred, eyes glittering, he mused, "A pity. I assumed you were. As I said, you're hardly the first to try and pull one over on me. Even Ivan came knocking, once upon a time. I've been waiting for you to come around for over a decade."

Alfred frowned, wavering in his attempts to break the straps. "Seriously? Why?"

"Every monster worth their salt feels the need to prove their worth. Normally I find it to be quite the nuisance, but for once I was looking forward to it. You know how monsters are born, yes? Humans fear something so much it becomes real, personified. It's not often what they fear is so...human."

Acidic eyes ran up Alfred slowly, from his boots to his face, which was most definitely not feeling warm in the least. He might not be enjoying this, but if he didn't know any better, this warlock was. It was unsettling, so was the very odd sensation in his belly.

"What's more, you were essentially made by media. Serial killers have been around for centuries, but you've only been born recently. People created you out of what their imaginations conjured up, which is normal enough, but you spread like wildfire, and they enjoy it. You do realize humans have only recently begun to get entertainment out of our kind? But they've taken pleasure in your existence from the beginning. I have been around a long time, boy, but I've never seen one quite like you."

"Ya know I'd be a lot more flattered if you'd let me down from here," said Alfred, not daring to glance at the straps and give himself away. That said, he could feel a little more give in them than he had before.

"Why would I do that? I'm waiting for you to let yourself down. It's why I think you must enjoy this. You're still so young it takes true effort to reach your primal instincts, the ones that make you one of us. But if you truly wanted out, were truly angry, truly afraid, you would have been out long ago. But you're still human, still...Alfred." Stepping forward, the Warlock lightly ran a finger up his throat, only smirking when Alfred snapped at him. "Change, and you can get yourself out."

"You actually _want_ to see me in action? Are you nuts?" demanded Alfred, seething. The only reason monsters were able to live in peace were due to their humanoid mentalities that took over when they weren't primal. It was an unspoken rule that you kept those instincts buried when in town.

"Perhaps. But I'm also a warlock, and any magic-worker craves knowledge. It's part of what makes us stronger. The fact that none of those witches in town have dared bring out your true nature is indication enough of how strong you are. Think of it, they fear you now when you're so young, just wait until you're older."

"Still don't see why you want me to go primal if that's the case," muttered Alfred, flexing his arm.

Arthur chuckled, eyes flickering with light. "I am left alone because I'm the most powerful monster in Halloween Town, lad. You are the first creature that has the potential to surpass me. You will understand if I am...curious."

"If that's right, why not just kill me?" snapped Alfred.

"Why would I do that? Tell me, lad, where does Bell get her power?"

Alfred hesitated. "From Lars. What's that got to do with me?"

Bell's specialty was Familiar magic. A brand that allowed a witch to gain power from creature's she had bound to herself. In her case, her most powerful source was her brother, an Ivan-sized werewolf. The more powerful the creature, the more powerful the witch. She'd also bound the Vargas brothers recently, twin were-cats. It was a mutual agreement, their assistance to her magic in exchange for favors only she could provide. Shelter when they had lover's quarrels with their respective partners, waffles, chocolate, and assurance Lars wouldn't beat them up anymore.

Arthur's eyes were starting to glow again, making Alfred even more uneasy. "Until now there has never been a creature that warranted the effort of binding. But as I've said before, you are quite different. You are young, but very strong, and grow very quickly. You have at your disposal every trick and tool of every serial killer that ever lived, real or not. You could free yourself quite easily if you let them out to play. So tell me, why is the infamous Alfred Jones holding back?"

Alfred's temper flared. Even as he growled, "I'm not!", something snapped. Several something's, actually.

His right hand, now free, curled into a fist before flexing outward. Steel claws shot out over his fingers, a matching glove coiling over his hand, lashing out at the warlock. He sprang backwards, just barely missing getting slashed by the claws. Alfred snarled angrily, twisting to slash through the remaining straps.

"You really shouldn't have done that," drawled Alfred, dropping to the floor. "You think you can make _me_ a familiar? Please."

Arthur's eyes flared with green light, but his face was lit in a smile. "Ah, finally."

A vicious smile curled at Alfred's mouth. He knew his eyes, normally bright sky blue, would be glowing red by now. "This what you wanted, old man? Maybe I'll have a little fun with ya before I leave."

He flexed his left hand, another set of claws flashing out, a glove rippling out to encase it as well. Arthur's smile only broadened. "Delightful. It's rare to find rumors that are true."

Alfred only snarled, charging forward. He made to drive one set of the claws directly into Arthur's chest, but the warlock didn't move. Rather, mere inches from his chest, the claws ground to a halt. Alfred growled, but no matter what he did he couldn't get any closer to the warlock.

"As I said. You're still young. By the time you're old enough to actually beat me, you won't want to."

With that, his eyes flared again, and Alfred was hurled off his feet, flying back into the table. He grunted, the wood cracking as he fell to the floor. He was back on his feet in a heartbeat, scowling at Arthur, but didn't charge again. He flexed his hands, the claws retracting, the gloves uncoiling and vanishing. He studied the warlock, calculating.

"Think about it, boy. You're supposed to be smart, are you not? You know I'm right."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't gut you before I leave," asked Alfred, tone light. "Just one, old man."

Arthur cocked his head. "Only one? Oh, which one to choose? Well, I've never met a monster who objected to more power. Becoming a familiar works both ways. You would also get stronger. Even if this were not true, you're a very curious creature. You want to know what it would be like, which stories are true and which are not." He cocked his head, eye lids drifting lower in a lazy expression. "And even if none of this were true, you might do it anyway. No person, monster or human, survives centuries without learning to read people. Object all you wish, lad, you don't hate this. It's a challenge. You like challenges. You like me."

Alfred snorted. "Don't flatter yourself old man."

"Then tell me I'm wrong, lad."

Even as he opened his mouth to do just that, again, Arthur moved forward. Alfred tensed, growling as he reached out. Arthur only paused, cocking a bemused brow before continuing forward. The taller monster kept narrowed eyes on him, but only frowned in a mix of irritation and confusion as the warlock laid a hand on his chest.

Leaning up on his toes so they were on eye level, locking eyes with the young monster, he murmured, "Tell me you feel nothing. I dare you."

Alfred stared right back. It would be oh so easy to drive any weapon right through the warlock's body from here. Hell, at this range he could do it with his own fist. He was certainly strong enough, especially now. That said, the thought was only an idle one. Primal mode or not, he wasn't completely dominated by animalistic instincts. The fact he always remained human to some degree was part of his scare factor. Alfred blamed that irritating human side for what he found when he started poking around, looking for evidence so he could tell the warlock he did in fact feel nothing.

There was...something. He had no idea what it was, though. That peculiar sensation in his belly, the one he'd noticed some time ago. It had no reason to be there, though it had grown the longer this encounter had gone on. Alfred wasn't able to make sense of it, but whenever he thought of a different way to kill this warlock, that warm feeling turned to a tiny bite of pain. But why?

"Old and new. Ancient and modern," mused Arthur, reaching up to lightly brush the serial killer's sunny blond hair. "The reason humans looked upon my kind with such terror is the same one that's behind your own creation. We are the product of humanity's largest fears from two eras. Think of what should happen if we joined together."

Even as the warlock spoke, something clicked in Alfred's head. It was a bit of a jolt, as he hadn't anticipated having this emotion for anyone, but it was a relief to understand what it was. It wasn't uncommon for monsters to have relationships, he knew, but Alfred had never thought it was for him.

For whatever insane reason, Arthur was right, though he hated to admit it. This warlock appealed to him on several levels. His inner monster looked at him and saw power, control, and a sadistic streak. This warlock was clever, strong, but it would be such fun to turn the tables. To render him helpless would be a delightful challenge, not to mention revenge for playing him. That said, the human side of Alfred had to admit that Arthur wasn't entirely unappealing. Adorably big eyebrows or not, he was hardly lacking in the looks department. He knew little else of the warlock, but he was curious. Sadly, the warlock's assessment of him had been dead on.

In that half second after Arthur finished speaking, Alfred made up his mind. His inner human was curious enough to let it ride, but it wasn't that part of him currently in control. The part that was decided he could fulfill that bit of the relationship later. For the time being, this warlock appealed to him on a very carnal level.

Smiling wolfishly, the serial killer drawled, "So just how long have you had your eye on little old me?"

"Mmm, fifteen years, give or take. Of course you only matured enough about five years ago to be more than a pet."

In the space of a heartbeat, Alfred grabbed him by the waistcoat, threw him to the ground, and knelt astride his waist. Still gripping the cloth in both hands he growled, "Not exactly a go-getter, are you old man? And what do you mean pet?"

Apparently not at all concerned, the warlock mused, "Vast patience is something that comes with the first century or so of life, lad. I'm in no hurry. And you know quite well what I mean by pet. You also know what my current goals are, assuming you're as smart as you like to think. Of course if you're only interested in a good shag, it's as good a place to start as any."

Alfred threw his head back and laughed. "Let me guess, you think you'll be doing the shagging?"

"I see no reason why not?"

"How about you dreaming?"

"We shall see."

 **[][][]**

 **[][][]LEMON BREAK[][][]**

 **[][][]**

Alfred sat back and said, "How the hell did you ever think you'd be the one topping?"

Arthur chuckled, carefully sitting up. "I think I'll leave that for another day. In the mean time, don't you think humans would prefer a bed?"

Alfred rolled his eyes, but got to his feet. He thought about it, then decided to just strip down completely. He made quick work of his footgear and shucked his pants before turning to Arthur. Wrapping one hand around his wrist, he hauled the warlock to his feet, but not before yanking the jeans and underwear off his ankles. He pushed shirt and waistcoat to the floor, then in one swift movement dumped the warlock over his shoulder.

"Oi! Bloody wanker, put me down!"

"You want a bed or not?"

"You don't have to carry me like this," protested the warlock, hands scrabbling for perches on Alfred's bare back.

"Well, you're not saying you can walk just fine," mused the monster, striding back into the main room and starting up the stairs. "Guess I did that part right at least."

The stream of profanities continued, but Alfred ignored them. He'd wait until they were to the bedroom before letting the human side take over again. For now, he was enjoying this new situation. _I can get used to it,_ he decided. _It could be fun. Especially if I get to fuck this on a regular basis._

And if the primal, psychopathic monster decided Arthur was a suitable mate, then the human Alfred was hardly likely to disagree.

* * *

 **Happy Halloween my pretties! :)**

 **[]**

 **Please Review!**


End file.
